bokuto's at the library- say what?
by earlgreymilktea
Summary: When he told Kuroo where he was going to be that afternoon, his friend had laughed until he fell off his chair. But when he runs -literally- into the boy with a mess of dark curls, he discovers the library is actually a really cool place.


**accidentally fell into bokuaka hell and now here i am writing trashy fics for them**

**apparently writing bokuto means /lots/ of italics and run-on sentences. oh, daisuga is heavily mentioned, kuroken is there if you squint real hard, yakulev you might have to tilt your head. **

**anyway, happy new year~**

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><p>If anyone is shocked to find <em>the<em> Bokuto Koutarou on the fourth floor of the library in the literary section on a Thursday afternoon when the sun is _out _and the konbini around the corner is selling popsicles for _half price_, it would probably be the man himself that is suffering most from disbelief. Everyone that had the pleasure of meeting someone as charming and funny and downright _awesome_ as Koutarou would agree that he and the library just did not mix.

Unfortunately, Koutarou _is _currently enrolled in college and apparently you actually have to do work in college. And pass your courses.

So here he is, shuffling through the impossibly looming shelves in not-so-silent misery, a list of reference books to track down in one hand. When he told Kuroo what he was going to be doing this afternoon, his best friend had laughed at him until he fell off his chair, causing even Kenma to look up from his phone for once. It's not like he _wanted _to be stuck in the library rewriting the paper that his Japanese professor was kind enough to let him redo instead of just flunking him like some other not-so-nice professors did.

He really can't afford to fail this semester though, which is why he's sucking it up, because he's a grown-up now, a strong, independent man who don't need no dumbass friends with permanent bedheads that dares question his ability to turn in a quality paper. Koutarou totally _can_ write amazing essays and reports, he just prefers to do better things during his time. Like volleyball, for example. Or parkouring with said dumbass friend with a permanent bedhead, or trying (and failing) to beat Kenma at MarioKart, or bugging that tsundere megane with the weird obsession with dinosaurs, or basically anything but actual work.

It's not Koutarou's fault that schoolwork is highly un-entertaining.

"Does this book even _exist_?" he moans, coming to the end of the shelf. He sighs, glancing around, wondering if he should ask for help. But no, Bokuto Koutarou is a smart, super cool owl and smart, super cool owls don't ask for help.

Straightening with renewed energy, Koutarou marches around the corner to browse through the next shelf, for the third time. He's busy scanning the list in his hands so he doesn't see that there's someone coming from the other side of the shelf at the exact same time. He lets out an embarrassingly owl-like hoot, stumbling back slightly. Thanks to his height and excellent reflexes, he manages to stay on his feet, but the other half of the collision is not so lucky.

"Oh, no, are you okay?" Koutarou frets when he spots the other person, a boy with a mess of curly black hair and some really flattering skinny jeans, like wow, they look _really_ good, should he ask the guy where he bought them- anyway, the boy is still on the ground, what if he accidentally _killed_ the poor kid by running into him? "I know I'm super fit and amazingly strong but I don't want to go to jail for accidental homicide! Are you hurt? Are you bleeding, do you want me to carry you to the hospital-"

"I'm fine." The boy shakes his head, blinking up at Koutarou. "Did you just compliment yourself in the middle of that?"

Koutarou only dimly registers the second half of the sentence, too busy sucking in a breath because holy hooting owls, this guy is freaking _beautiful_. Pale, porcelain skin, all angles and thin features, but beneath those heavy eyelids that gave the boy a permanently composed expression are two serious, dark eyes that Koutarou swears he can just _drown_ in. He stands there gaping at the boy for a moment before he realizes that the other is already getting off the ground, dusting off his clothes.

"Ah, I, uh. Are you a student here?"

The boy looks at him, expression unchanging. "This is the school library," he reminds him pointedly. "You need an ID to get in here."

"Aha, right!" Koutarou laughs it off, one hand reaching up to run through his hair, which is hella rad, mind you, all silver and black and thankfully he spiked it up today so he can look the alpha owl he is. "Sooo, why are you here?"

The other gives him a flat look, which somehow still looks absolutely amazing on him. "Studying." He shifts his bag, which Koutarou can see is already holding a bunch of books and notebooks.

"Hey, what a coincidence, me too!" Koutarou beams, not discouraged in the slightest by the answering raised eyebrow. "What are you studying?"

"Literature."

"Wow, cool! You must be one of the sophisticated artsy types, eh?"

The boy just blinks at him. "Right. I'm going to go over there now. Goodbye. Be careful where you're walking next time."

"Ah, right. Okay." Koutarou watches him disappear around the corner, a stupid grin on his face before it slips off and he smacks himself in the forehead. "Why didn't I ask for his name? Or his _number_? Gods, I'm so stupid!"

His shoulders slump, his mind still with that beauty of a literature major, at least, he assumed the guy was a literature major because he hasn't seen him around, though it was a pretty big school, but then the guy was too graceful and pretty to be anything but the 'high-class' students that he sees when he passes by the library front steps or accidentally wanders into the language arts departments. Koutarou only knows one literature major and only through Kuroo, who has this friendly rivalry thing with a certain Daichi Sawamura, who is practically joined at the hip with one Sugawara Koushi. And Sugawara Koushi is positively an _angel_, so no one can blame Koutarou for his good impression of literature majors.

It's just a shame he didn't take it upon himself to mingle a bit more, because damn, he's pretty sure that boy just stole his heart.

And he doesn't even know his name.

**...**

**..**

**.**

"But, duuuude, you should've _seen_ him," bemoans Koutarou, tugging at his shaggy hair. "He was like something out of the magazines, or those stupid dramas Yaku loves, or, or a painting? I don't know, man, just that he was absolutely _breathtaking_."

Kuroo doesn't even spare him a glance from the tv screen. His fingers are busy smashing buttons trying to beat the boss for the fourteenth time and he's been listening to his friend lamenting over some boy he fell in love at first sight with yesterday for the better half of the last hour. "Why don't you just go find him then? And leave me to defeat this boss in peace."

"But hooow? I don't even know his name! And you're my best bro, you're supposed to hear me out with my with my woes in love."

"I don't think that's called a woe in love considering you met the guy for, what, all of three seconds?"

"It was enough for him to steal my heart," Koutarou sighs, watching Kuroo's avatar plunge to his death on screen. "He was studying _literature_, I was pretty sure there were books in _English _in his bag, Kuroo."

"I'm surprised you could even recognize that was English." Kuroo presses the RESTART BATTLE button, a frustrated frown on his face.

"Hey! I can tell English from Japanese at least. And why don't you just ask Kenma to help you with this level? He would've done it in five minutes."

Kuroo lets out a heavy sigh. "I would if I could. He's hanging out with that orange-headed chibi-chan."

"Aw, lonely?"

"Shut up, Mr. Lovestruck-with-a-total-stranger."

Koutarou lets his head drop onto the couch's armrest, sad and defeated. He can't stop thinking about the boy he ran into -quite literally- yesterday, even more so those tight faded skinny jeans and those dark intelligent eyes. He doesn't know how he managed to even track down the books yesterday, much less finish the paper. All he knows is that he is completely and helplessly taken with the stranger and he is completely and hopelessly stuck.

"What do I doooo, Kuroo?"

"Jeez, I don't know, why don't you try going back to the library again? If he's majoring in lit, he's bound to be where the books are, right?"

Koutarou looks up, blinking at his friend, whose tongue is sticking out in concentration from the game. He beams, lighting up again, before launching himself at his best friend. "You're a genius, Kuroo! I knew there was a reason you're my bestest bro in the world!"

"Fuck, Bokuto, I know you love me but did you have to do that? Look, I died again!"

"Love you too, broski."

"... Wait, are you actually going to the library?"

"Yeah!"

"... Did you hit your head yesterday, too?"

"No!"

"Holy shit, I gotta get this on camera to show Lev. Here, say it again, where are you going, voluntarily and by yourself?"

"The library! Bye, Kuroo! When I come back, I will be newly taken and not-single!"

Kuroo watches the door slam shut with raised eyebrows and a disbelieving smirk on his face. He knows his friend has the weirdest highs and lows but for the owl-head to actually willingly spend time in the library, wow. That kid he bumped into yesterday must be one hell of a looker. He doesn't know if he should be cheering for Bokuto or praying the kid's not gay for his own sanity and safety.

**...**

**..**

**.**

Koutarou is, unfortunately, still single and still miserable when he comes back to the dorm. He slumps down on the table, not even in the mood to go out and play some volleyball with whoever he can snag on the way.

"Hey, look, Bokuto-san is in one of his moods again. Did someone die?"

"Shut up, Lev. Leave him alone."

"But Yaku-san, he's taken over the entire table."

Koutarou hears the dorm's unofficial mother hen, Yaku Morisuke, sigh insufferably. He does that a lot, considering the half-Russian insists on following him like a too-tall, too-straightforward puppy.

"Bokuto-san, did something happen?"

Koutarou groans miserably. He lifts his head to see Yaku standing in front of him while Lev hovers behind him curiously. "I fell in looove."

Lev's mouth drops open but Yaku only scrunches his eyebrows together. "Again?" he says.

Koutarou clutches at his chest in exaggerated hurt. "Are you doubting the feelings of my pure and holy heart?"

"Yes," is the flat response. "This is the fourth time this month, and only once did you actually go on a date. Which, I don't think I need to remind you not to try again, because I am not doing the laundry for you this time."

"I think Kuroo still has pics of that dude," Lev supplies unhelpfully, "In case he ever comes back so we know not to let him in."

"I was drunk, okay? And, anyway, it's different this time. I think..." Koutarou sits up straight, eyes widening. "I think he might be _the one_."

Yaku just gives him an unimpressed frown, ignoring Lev's loud _ooh_-ing in the background. "If this guy is 'the one,' then what are you doing here moping?"

Koutarou slumps back down on the table. "Because I don't know who he is!"

"What?"

"I ran into him and he said he was studying literature-literature!- and then he left and I didn't ask for his name but he was beautiful, oh man, he's like- an angel, but today he wasn't at the library and I don't know where he lives but that would be creepy if I just showed up on his front steps but oh man, he's so-"

Yaku sighs, stepping towards the room he shares with Lev. "I'm not even going to ask how you can have a crush on someone you don't even know."

"It's not a crush, Yaku! It's _looove_," says Koutarou.

Lev pats him on the shoulder as he walks by. "Don't worry, Bokuto-san, you'll probably forget about your crush after a couple days and maybe a couple drinks."

Koutarou just groans.

**...**

**..**

**.**

Maybe he's too sleepy today or maybe he's been spending too much time partying with Lev's friends, Yamamoto and Tanaka and that Nishinoya kid that's even shorter than that chibi-chan who's roommates with Kenma and-what was he talking about again. Right, Koutarou has discovered that the library is actually a pretty cool place. It's quiet, it's peaceful, and he can easily take a nap in the back where the librarians won't catch him. It's perfect.

Or, it would be, if a certain dark-haired literature major would show up.

He slinks through the shelves, shoulders slumped and a pout on his lips but there's no one around to care. He's been hanging out here every afternoon when he's not in class, or when he doesn't want to go to class, so often that even Kiyoko, the beautiful student volunteering at the counter, has begun to greet him by name when he comes in.

"Bokuto-san, do you have an exam coming up soon?" she asked the fourth time he's shown up dutifully. "I've never seen you in the library so frequently before."

"Well, see," sighed Koutarou, before confessing his problems concerning a certain stranger he still can't forget. "So, the library's the only lead I got."

Kiyoko brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she considers his problem. "I can keep an eye out for the guy, but from your descriptions, it can be a number of people."

Koutarou grinned at her. "Thanks, Kiyoko! You're the best!"

She blushed a little, waving him away. "At least pretend to study, Bokuto-san."

He's rounding the corner again, thinking maybe he should go grab some food or something when he spots a head of messy black hair. Koutarou stops where he is, gaze locked on the student sitting in the table by the windows, head down and fully concentrated on the pile of books in front of him. Koutarou stays still for a moment before his lips stretch wide and he pumps his fist in the air.

This is it. Fate has finally relented, presenting him with that beauty right in front of him. He won't mess it up this time, even though he's only wearing a t-shirt that says _hoot! are you? _and his hair isn't gelled up today. It's okay, nobody can resist Bokuto Koutarou's charm and allure.

"Hey!" Koutarou shoots the kid his best smile while plopping down into the seat across from him. "Studying again?"

The boy looks up, his expression still the same calm and blankness, though there's a slight flicker of recognition in his eyes. "You're from last time."

"You remember me!" Koutarou beams. This is better than he thought. "Was it my charm? My owl-likeness? My good-looks?"

"Your hair," is the dry reply. "Though it's not spiked up this time."

"Ah, yeah. I was running late this morning... Do you prefer it spiked up? I can do it real fast-"

"No, it's, ah. It's fine." The boy glances back down at his books. He doesn't say much else, but he also doesn't tell Koutarou to go away, so he takes that as a good sign.

Koutarou decides to just get right to it, in case something terrible happens and his one chance is snatched away again. "I'm Bokuto Koutarou. What's your name?"

Dark eyes drift up to his, and there's a pause as the boy considers him in silence. "Akaashi Keiji."

"Cool! I like your name." _And your face. And your eyes. And just, everything._ Holy shit, Koutarou is so gone, it's not even funny. And this is only their second meeting. "Do you always come to the library to study?"

"... Mostly."

"Are you a literature major?" blurts Koutarou.

"... Yes?"

"Yes! I was right!"

Akaashi lifts an elegant eyebrow. "About what?"

"Well, everyone knows that literature majors are like, untouchable. I mean, it's a wonder Daichi managed to snag Suga, considering he's like, the biggest dork in the history of dorks, I mean, you should have seen him when he was first chasing after Suga, he wouldn't listen to our suggestions because he wanted it to be _romantic_, holy crap, like with candlelit dinners and violin music and, oh I remember, when he went to ask him out he showed up with-"

"A bouquet of red roses?"

"Yeah! It was totally-" Koutarou's eyes widen, pointing at the boy across from him. "You know?"

Akaashi's lips lift up slightly. "Suga-san told me. He wasn't sure if he should be flattered or embarrassed, but Daichi was blushing enough for the both of them."

"Yeah, and when he came back from that date, holy shit, you should've seen him, it was like he was drunk and he didn't even yell at Kuroo when he accidentally spilled coffee all over his floor."

"Suga-san was the same, to be honest." Akaashi shrugs. "Guess those two were meant-to-be."

"So you're friends with Suga? That's such a coincidence!"

Akaashi shrugs again. "We played on the same volleyball team in high school."

"You play volleyball?!"

There's a couple of _shut ups_ thrown their way, but Koutarou doesn't even care because Akaashi is smiling at him. It's a small smile, but it's still a smile, and he has a feeling the guy isn't the type to grin widely like Koutarou himself.

"What position are you? I'm a wing spiker!"

"I played setter."

"A setter! How come you're not on the team?"

Akaashi glances at the books around him. "I don't have the time."

"Aw, but you should come to our practice! And set for me! I bet I can score with all your sets!"

There's another raised eyebrow. "Is that an innuendo, Bokuto-san?"

Koutarou gapes. "I didn't, I mean, that's-" He stops when he realizes the other boy is smirking at him.

"I might take you up on that suggestion." Akaashi glances at the time, and then stands up. "I've gotta go now." He gathers his books, and then looks at Koutarou. "Can I have your phone, Bokuto-san?"

"Huh? Oh." Koutarou obliges, and watches in amazement as the other boy adds a new contact under 'Akaashi Keiji'.

"Contact me when your next practice is, and we'll see." Akaashi hands the phone back with a half-smirk. "By the way, I like your hair better down. See you, Bokuto-san."

For the second time in a week, Koutarou is left staring as the head of messy black curls disappears around the corner, taking along his heart. He grins, letting out a happy hoot because he's sure of it this time, he's in _love_. And he's got a name to the face. This is it, for sure. He can't wait to tell Kuroo.

"Ohoho, yes!"

"We're trying to study, _shut up_!"

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><p><strong>i apologize for the awkward conversation. because i'm awkward at conversation.<strong>


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